Following
This morning, I followed another car for a good fifteen minutes. She, the driver, cut me off and I just wasn't going to have any of that. After an intersection, two lanes become one. I was in the left-hand (going straight) lane, she was in the right-hand (turning right) lane. When the light changed, we both accelerated. I was following another car immediately ahead of me. Suddenly, the soon-to-be-offending driver swerved to the left. Had I not slammed my foot down on the brake pedal, she would have collided with my car, her driver side door into my front fender. Once out of danger, I began leaning on the horn. As soon as I stopped honking, I resolved to follow her. I had time to spare and I felt that she need to be penalized in some way. Not wanting to deal with higher insurance premiums, I opted for following her rather than denting her rear bumper.

Though at the next intersection I had wanted to turn left, I followed her in turning right. Quite the speed demon, she was quickly exceeding the speed limit by at least fiften miles per hour. I kept with her as best the Mousemobile's acceleration would allow. We entered an area of higher traffic, which allowed me to close the gap. I stuck right on her tail. Once, another car changed lanes and got between us, but I quickly accelerated and passed on the right, resuming my harassing posture. By this point, I suspected she might be aware of me. Instead of honking, I thought it more menacing to simply continue to follow. She made a sudden left turn, as did I. She swiftly changed from the left-hand to right-hand lane, as did I. She swerved back to the left-hand lane, as did I. In her rear view mirror, her eyes were large saucers.

At the next intersection, I let myself fall back so that she passed under a yellow light while I stopped at red. I doubt she feels she did anything wrong in cutting me off and I doubt my actions taught her that lesson. But if for one moment I had made her life less enjoyable, perhaps even scared her, my purpose was acheived.